Formalities
by HDUC
Summary: The TARDIS is infirm and in danger of destroying the universe, if they don't get her stabilized. Trouble is, the folks who might have the cure are asking a price that the Doctor and Martha aren't willing to pay... just to enter their midst! Can they find a way around it (and have a lot of fun at it)? Adult!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there! It's been a year since I've posted here, but finally the plot bunnies returned to their nest. I love writing meaningful sci-fi smut, the challenge, of course, is finding REASONS for two characters to shag, when they wouldn't normally. And as a wise woman once said, "Accidentally inhaling magical sex dust doesn't count." So I do try not to go down that road... and that's where the plot bunnies are handy!**

 **This is a three-part story (I believe, anyway) and it's a little bizarre, as are most of my stories. There is a bit of science fiction here, but as usual, it exists to support the objective of eventually getting our heroes into the sack together. And THAT, my friends, is a noble cause! ;-)**

 _I must include a disclaimer_ **: I cherry-picked what I liked from the lore of the Eye of Harmony as it suited me. I didn't make up anything, though. In my research I found that the fan theory that the Eye inside the Doctor's TARDIS is a remote link to the main Eye has become a piece of "fanon," accepted, apparently, by the BBC. Which is extremely convenient for me.**

 **I think you will find that this first chapter is intriguing as well as frustrating, and as you reach the end you may see where it is headed!**

 **Hope you enjoy... please leave a review!**

* * *

I

 _Bong! Bong!_

Something that sounded like a gigantic church bell jostled Martha Jones out of her sleep.

"What the hell?" she croaked, sitting up, looking around, trying to get her bearings. "Did the Doctor land us in the middle of _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_?"

 _Bong! Bong!_ she heard again.

She waited another few seconds, and then heard the sound a third time. She wondered whether she should get out of bed to investigate, or just wait for it to stop, and ask questions later. She knew, in her grogginess, what she _wanted_ to do, but…

Just then, she heard the shuffle of Time Lord feet passing by her bedroom door, out in the hall. They were moving fast, as if running at full-pelt.

That made her decision for her. She stood up and shook off the sleep. She didn't even bother to put on a pair of shorts or flip-flops before leaping for the bedroom door in her oversized light blue night shirt.

She had heard the footsteps disappear down the hall to her left, so she ran, also at more or less full-pelt, in that direction. She listened for more sounds of running, but she could only hear her own bare feet slapping on the hard floor now. Though, she did find that the sound of the church bell became louder as she ran. She reckoned she was getting close to the source.

She found herself in a rotunda-like space, and stopped short. There were five tributaries from the main hallway here, and every branch looked the same. She reckoned she'd better bloody well know what she was doing now, or she'd have the potential to get lost in the TARDIS forever.

"Doctor?" she called out.

To her surprise, he answered straight away. "In here," he called out.

The voice was coming from the corridor to her right, so she followed it, and soon discovered a wide opening that led into a singular space for the TARDIS' interior.

The room was round and large, and the ceiling, walls and floor were panelled with highly polished, light-coloured wood. About five feet from the wall, almost all the way around, there was a series of white upside-down V's, each about eight feet tall. It gave the effect of a very large zigzag pattern. Intermittently along the inside of the V circle, there were potted plants – each delicate, lacy-looking, lightly-coloured and growing about as tall as Martha herself. There were also three simple benches, equidistant from one another, each white, rectangular, no detail.

In the middle of the room, there was a round, elevated platform, about two-and-a-half feet above the floor. Its circle was lined with a row of the same lacy plant that was in the pots. Except, one area remained open, and that was where the Doctor stood, in his pyjamas and an untied pair of Converse having been hastily donned. He was gazing into the middle of the circle.

"What is this place?" she asked, wistfully gazing round.

"The Cloister Room," he said, just before the _bong, bong_ sounded again. Inside the room, it was almost deafening.

"What's that bell?" she shouted, in the short interval before the next _bong._

"That's the Cloister Bell," he answered calmly. "It signals me when the TARDIS is in distress."

"Where is it?" she asked.

 _Bong! Bong!_

"That's a good question. Hard to explain. It's in the consciousness of the TARDIS, which itself is rooted, in a way, in this room. That's why it's so loud here."

He still stared into the middle of the circle of plants. It seemed to her he had not blinked.

 _Bong! Bong!_

"What are you looking at?" she asked him softly, coming up closely behind him.

"Come look," he said, and he bent a bit to offer his hand.

He helped her up onto the platform, and she peered into the circle, as the cloister bell continued to alert them every twenty seconds or so. It was what looked like roughly one-third of a section of something globular. If she could see the entire sphere, she estimated that it would fill up her entire flat in London. What she could see of it was entirely covered in the same wood panelling as the rest of the room, and also, elaborate carvings of Gallifreyan language. There seemed to be a slit in the middle, open about six inches. Inside, there was only blackness.

"It's beautiful," she told him. "What is it?"

"It's called the Eye of Harmony," the Doctor said. "Or rather, _an_ Eye of Harmony. It propels the TARDIS. It, along with the Vortex, is a primary source of the TARDIS' power."

"Oh. And… it's in distress?"

He nodded subtly.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked.

"For a start, it's not supposed to be open," he said. "It's only been open when it's been tampered-with."

"It's been tampered-with?"

"I don't think so, not this time. But it's still not exactly glad tidings. As long as the Eye is closed, it is looking into itself, concentrating on its own energy. When the eye is open, energy escapes and causes space-time distortion."

"Oh. That sounds… unpleasant."

"Well, it won't actually happen until the Eye has been fully open for a couple of days. And it'll take a while for it to open fully."

"How long is a while?"

He shrugged. "Four, maybe five days at most."

"Okay, so let's work out how to close it."

"That's just it – I have no idea how."

"Why not? That's not like you."

"Not like me, not to have a plan?" he chuckled. "Ah, Martha."

"It's your TARDIS, and you don't know how to fix it! _That_ is not like you."

"Because the original Eye of Harmony was…" he gulped. "On Gallifrey. This Eye is a remote link with channelled energy from the original Eye, and powered the TARDIS… wirelessly, if you will. Manipulating this eye used to depend upon that link, upon going to the source."

"I see," she said sadly, and she placed a consoling hand on his shoulder.

"And given that the planet is destroyed, there is no way to link up this Eye in order to even diagnose the problem," he said, pushing his hand through his more-than-usually mussed hair. "Although, if I had to guess…" He sighed heavily, and turned away from the Eye, jumping off the platform.

"If you had to guess?" she coaxed, jumping down herself.

They both noticed, though did not mention, that the cloister bell had gone silent now.

He headed for the exit. "If I had to guess, I'd say that the Eye is simply running low on its power stores. The remote link was broken a while back… I guess I should've realised we've been running on fumes."

"Well, come on, Doctor," she said, following him out of the Cloister Room and back down the hall. "There's got to be something you can do. I mean, what's the alternative? Let the TARDIS power down forever and you get a flat and a job?"

"Yeah, I know," he grumbled.

"I think I know what you'll say, but… well, I suppose it's already occurred to you just to go back in time to a point when your planet was still safe, and link up with the original Eye."

"It doesn't work like that, Martha," he told her. "Most of Gallifrey, throughout all of time, became time-locked when the planet fell. A Time Lord trick. It's better that way. I'll tell you, though, it's good for the universe in the long-run, but a damn frustrating little fail-safe."

"So, in this whole big universe, with all of time at your fingertips, there isn't someone, somewhere, with the resources you need? A power source that can mimic the original Eye? A wise man who knows how to establish an artificial link? Whatever that means… I don't know."

He stopped short and faced her. "You know, you're kind of brilliant."

He was quite serious, and the tone disarmed her.

"Erm, thanks."

"You just gave me an idea. Go back to bed, we'll go looking for a solution tomorrow."

"Okay,'' she said, uneasily. "Good night."

And they went their separate ways for another few hours' rest.

* * *

When she didn't find him in the console room the following morning, she went straight to the Cloister Room. The Doctor was sitting on the platform, staring into the black hole in the middle of the Eye of Harmony, once more. Martha noticed that the opening seemed to have got a bit wider during the night.

"I don't suppose it's fixed, and you're just sitting here, resting on your laurels?" she asked, by way of _hello_.

"No such luck, I'm afraid. But I think I do have a way to fix it."

"Do tell," she encouraged, sitting down, cross-legged, beside him.

"There's a civilization called the Rambaja. They're a smallish population in an isolated region of a largeish planet. They have the power to create these monstrously effective… well, for lack of a better phrase, psychic links. And they owe me a favour."

"Well, that's a good start. Solid psychic links!"

"Yeah, but it's not what you think. I'm wondering if they could put out feelers across the universe for, like you said, a _mimicking_ power source. I don't want them to try and link us to Gallifrey – that would be unbelievably dangerous…"

"You just want them to help us do research," she said with a smile.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Because we not only need to find a power source that is _similar_ to the one on Gallifrey, but we need to find one large enough to give us a boost, and maybe not just this once. A source that is near-infinite, if possible. We also need to find one that does not have beings dependent upon it. I won't have life in the universe depleted in any way, or thrown into chaos, because of it."

"Fair enough."

"And if we tried to find it ourselves, it would take… well, longer than the six day _maximum_ that we have, before the Eye remains open for too long and time space begin to distort."

"What does that mean – distort?"

He hemmed and hawed a bit, cocked his head back and forth a few times, shrugged his shoulders, with a long expression of, "Welllllll…" Then he said. "Basically, time would essentially _bend,_ in any place or time where this TARDIS has been. One instance of its arrival somewhere will try to meet up with another instance of its arrival, and if it can't find something local, it will find something across galaxies. Moments and places will be squished together, seemingly at random. And in locales where the TARDIS has landed more than once, like in front of your flat, or in the estate where Rose used to live, those moments will reach backwards and forwards to meet one another, and there will essentially be a zigzag of time energy that cannot be broken, or a swirling time loop into which a passer-by could be sucked. But given that the biggest danger exists in parts of the universe where the TARDIS has _flown_ in space, and that it could cause a crease that would make all of existence fold in on itself, I'd say that the time loop thing in various London neighbourhoods is a fairly low-toll risk."

Sge took a breath and sighed. "So, basically, life as we know it… ends."

"Yeah."

"Well, we have to ask the Rambaja for help, then. Looks like we are choiceless."

"Yeah."

* * *

The infirm TARDIS landed upon a beach, stretching left and right with perfect, soft sand as far as the eye could see.

In front of them, however, there was clearly a kind of city behind walls. Immediately before them, they spied three pyramids, one prominently in front, the other two slightly behind on either side. Torches burned, lighting the vicinity, as night was falling.

The Doctor unconsciously took Martha's hand and walked forward. "Come on," he whispered.

And as it did whenever he touched her, her heart began to beat a bit faster, and her mind began to race. Was it a _good_ thing that he was so comfortable just seizing her hand, or was it another sign that she would only ever be his very good friend? Was he doing it for comfort? And if so, whose? Camaraderie? Solidarity? Or, dare she wonder, just affection? Tired as she was of this train of thought, she could not turn it off.

She felt a little frisson shoot through her whole body, followed by a rush of heat. Whatever the surroundings, whatever the danger, if he took her hand as he did now, or pulled her close, hugged her, looked at her with admiration, her attention became focused on him. Sometimes, she rather enjoyed the crush she had on him, because she enjoyed thinking about him and obsessing, in idle moments, over his eyes and his movements, his lips and hair and the mightiest thing of all: his brain. But other times, she understood just why it's called a _crush._ Considering what it occasionally (increasingly frequently) did to her heart, it was an apt name.

Because he never seemed to look at her twice – at least not in the way she would like. As far as she knew, he thought she was brave, intelligent and athletic, but had never given a second thought to her looks, her sweeter side (or for that matter, her naughtier side), or her capacity for love.

And yet, she trusted him completely. They were best mates, relied on each other, and were, in most ways, simpatico.

And so, she went with him to the foot of a steep staircase that seemed to lead nowhere. When they reached the top, Martha saw where it led: to a pond.

A glassy, silver, round body of water separated them from the first pyramid, and the platform in front of it – almost a balcony.

On either side of the pond was a walkway that led to each of the side pyramids. She observed that there was a single door that seemed to lead into each of the triangular structures, and a symbol above each door.

"This is mad," she exclaimed, quietly. "That staircase is terrifying."

"Yeah, a bit."

"What do those symbols mean?"

"The one on the left is the symbol for male. The one on the right is female. The one in the middle is unity."

"That's nice. What do we do now, just stand here?"

And that's when a woman appeared on the platform across from them. She stood at the front of it, and she had a kind smile. She had skin the colour of chocolate, and a rounded body. She was wearing brightly-coloured robes and a headdress that let Martha know very clearly, she was a queen or a shaman (shawoman?)… someone powerful and in-charge.

"Doctor," the woman said with a voice that seemed to float like a feather upon the air. "It _is_ you, isn't it?"

"It is," he said. "Sorry about the face… couldn't be helped."

"That's all right," she said. She gestured into the sand lot behind them. "I recognise your TARDIS well enough. How are you?"

"Well, actually, the TARDIS is the reason why we're here."

"First things first. Who is your Companion?" asked the woman.

"Oh! This is Martha Jones. Martha, this is Wissance, the current Queen of the Rambaja, if I'm not mistaken."

"Right you are, Doctor," said the Queen. "It's nice to meet you, Martha."

"Last time I was here, Wissance was serving on the Council of Egress," he said. "Keeping tabs on who left the city, and whether they went to safety."

"I was elected Queen a few years back," she explained. "After the fall of Queen Gessa, and her power-hungry minions."

The Doctor sucked in air through his teeth and winced. "Ooh, I heard about that. Ugly business, that."

"So," said the Queen with a big smile. "You say that your TARDIS is the reason you've come?"

"Yes," he said, and then proceeded to recount the trouble he was having with the Eye of Harmony, and why he couldn't just fix it himself.

"I see, that is indeed a very perplexing problem. So you've come to us for...?"

"I was hoping you could do a search for me," he explained. "Maybe attempt to locate a mimicking power source that is not only potent, but _available_ for the taking."

"Oh, well, that's quite a tall order," she told him. "That will take all four of our councils, and then some."

"Yeah, well, that's not the worst bit," he told her. "If we don't get it repaired, it could destroy the universe."

"Oh," Wissance said flatly. Her features went expressionless. "Please tell me _that_ is the worst bit."

"Depends how you choose to look at it," he said. "The last piece of the puzzle is this: we only have six days. Well, let's call it five, just to be safe."

Wissance laughed. "Well, Doctor! When we owe you a favour, we _really_ owe you, don't we?"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I wouldn't ask, except…"

"I understand," she said, consolingly. "I think that what you're asking can be done, it will just take some… we'll call it, personnel management. That's all."

"So you'll try?"

"Yes, we'll try," she granted. "Come inside the city, and we will begin preparing the necessary resources."

"Brilliant," he exclaimed. "Thank you."

"You and Martha will just have to make a formal greeting, and then you can be admitted into our city."

"Oh, right. The formal greeting," the Doctor said, sounding suddenly both crestfallen and nervous. "Forgot about that bit."

"What? What's that tone for? What's the formal greeting?" Martha wondered.

As an answer, two more people appeared then, through the doors of the side pyramids. It was a woman on the left, who made her way toward them, across her own platform, and then along the walkway leading to where the Doctor and Martha now stood.

Martha watched her. Her skin tone was akin to Wissance's, but she was taller, more lean and lithe, and had the air, frankly, of a runway model. Her hair hung black and loose down her back, and her bright purple and green garb covered only her breasts and nether regions. Her lips were the colour of red wine, her eyes were light brown, almond-shaped and mysterious, and Martha could find absolutely no outward flaws.

She was vaguely aware that someone was headed across the walkway on the right as well, and when she turned to look, a very beautiful man stood there within arm's reach of her, with a gentle smile. By contrast, he was light-skinned (though somewhat tanned from the sun), well-muscled, and wore only what amounted to a loin cloth. His hair was sandy blond and just long enough to cover part of his ears on the sides, and to hang charmingly in his eyes slightly, in the front.

"Doctor, you will copulate with Nedea. Martha, you will copulate with Elbon. We'll see you on the other side," Queen Wissance announced, and with that, she turned away. She made to walk back through the doorway into the middle pyramid, as though this sort of thing happened every day.

The man whose name seemed to be Elbon took Martha's right hand, while the Doctor still held her left. The blond man tugged, and she stumbled toward him, losing contact with her Time Lord friend.

"No!" Martha protested. "I'm not doing this. Are you mad?" She yanked her hand away from him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, I thought this might happen." the Doctor, who was not following Nedea, though she was pulling, commented.

Everyone stopped. The Queen turned to face her. "But this is the formal greeting: copulation with our chosen surrogates."

"That's just… that's…"

"Careful, Martha, this is their religion," the Doctor warned.

"Sorry," she said. "I mean no disrespect. But… just _no._ "

The Queen attempted to lull her. "Martha, it has nothing to do with love or relationships or sexuality. It has to do with unity and submission to our deities. It is a _ceremonial_ act. Nedea has been chosen from our populace to be imbued with the essence of our Great Goddess, and Elbon has been chosen to be imbued with the essence of our Great God. If you'd prefer, you can be with Nedea, and if the Doctor doesn't mind…"

"No, that's not the problem," Martha said.

"No-one gets into our city without a formal greeting," the Queen told her. Martha had to give her credit for being just really, really _nice._

"Then, I'm not coming into the city," Martha said with finality.

"Just give us a mo'," the Doctor said to Wissance. He extricated himself from Nedea and walked toward Martha.

When he was in whisper-range, she asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I forgot!" he insisted. "It's been about five, maybe six, hundred years since I've been here. I've had a thing or two to think about since then! And truth be told, I thought they might make an exception because we came in together. Martha…"

"Listen, don't even _try_ to talk me into this, Doctor. I am not _copulating_ with someone just to gain entry into a city. I don't care if…"

"Shh," he scolded. "I'm not going to try and talk you into it. If you don't want to do it, then don't."

"Oh. Thanks."

"But we don't have much time, Martha, and these people probably have what we need."

"So what do you suggest?"

"I don't know," he said. "But I'm not going in without you, so if there's a way around it, then we'll have to find it soon."


	2. Chapter 2

**When we left off, the Queen of Rambaja was requiring that the Doctor and Martha make a formal greeting for entry into the city. A formal greeting is offered in the form of, well... ceremonial shagging of the gods' surrogates. Martha has refused to go through with it, and the Doctor isn't going to try and make her. But the TARDIS is in danger, and the city of Rambaja has the resources they need... time is running out. What WILL they do?**

 **Full disclosure: this chapter might as well be called "info dump." The "mechanics" of the formal greeting and the gods are revealed and explained here. Most importantly, it is explained how Nedea and Elbon became "imbued" with the essences of the gods. There is a process.**

 **But just keep in mind, the whole thing exists just to get to the LAST LINE of the chapter! Heeee!** **Please leave a review!**

* * *

II

Entering the TARDIS behind her, the Doctor asked, "Do I need to ask why you don't want to do it?"

"Not really," she told him, not looking at him. "From what you said, it sounds like you already get it."

Wissance had seemed bewildered by Martha's reluctance to bed the mighty Elbon. The Doctor had tried to explain Martha's culture and its mores concerning sex, the body, etc.

"You have to understand, she means no disrespect. It's just, humans, in general, in spite of what some of them say, seem to have a difficult time separating sex from emotion. To them, it can represent a promise. And someone like Martha… she'd definitely want to have the heart involved. Love and/or some kind of commitment or affection or _something_ has to be there before… well, before giving of herself and her body that way," he had tried to explain to the Queen. "Their bodies aren't just for the taking, or for the sharing… not for something like this. They hold their sexuality close, and most are choosy about their partners. And frankly… no offence, but I don't think humans have got it wrong."

The Queen still did not understand, but she didn't fight them, didn't seem offended, and didn't try to force the issue. But, she also did not let them into the city, and said she would not be able to gather the Council members for psychic searching until the Doctor had gained entry.

"Just go," Martha pouted, leaning against the TARDIS' console. "Go have a good canoodle or whatever with Nedea, then sit in the war room with the experts. Fix your TARDIS. I'll be fine if I don't come in."

"Are you sure about that? You'll have to sleep in the sand."

"I will?"

"Yes. If they find a power source and find a way to link up the TARDIS remotely, no-one will be able to be inside the TARDIS for twenty-four, maybe even forty eight hours."

"Oh. Great." She fell silent. Then she piped up again, after a few moments' contemplation. "You know what? I don't care. Just go. Do what you have to do."

Although, truth be told, the idea of him shagging anyone who wasn't her, made her sick to her stomach, especially after the speech he'd given to Queen Wissance. It made her think that he understood her, that he maybe wanted the same things she did, that for him, sex might also represent love and a promise and…

Actually, she realised then that she had absolutely no idea how Time Lords viewed the matters of the flesh. Was it a ceremonial act to them, as well? Because the Doctor had been here at Rambaja before, and that implied that he'd gone through with the formal greeting in the past. Had that been just a means to an end, a grin-and-bear-it sort of thing, or had he done it as a matter of course? Just because he _understood_ how humans such as Martha relate to sex and the body, and said that it made sense to him, did that mean that _he_ related to it in the same way?

She tried to shake that train of thought off. It only made her _yearn_. The bottom line was, if he said, "Okay," and left right now to make a formal greeting, promising to be back when the solution was found, she thought she would die of nauseous jealousy in the next hour. Knowing that he was twisted up in the sheets (or whatever they used) with a literal goddess while she, Martha, paced back and forth in the console room… well, that would surely kill her.

But she could hardly say so, could she? And her unrequited love was a pittance compared to what might happen if they never repaired the Eye of Harmony.

He approached her, then stood uncomfortably close. "Is that what you really want?" he asked, barely audibly, in the lowest tones she had ever heard him use. "That I just go take care of it?"

"I…" She couldn't answer. She didn't know how. And also, his hot breath was reaching her neck, and she couldn't breathe for the sensation, let alone speak. The combination of that, the voice and the subject matter made her pulse quicken.

"It wouldn't be weird for you if I went up there, followed Nedea into that pyramid, had a highly athletic, yet spiritual, bout of sex with her, then came back in a couple of days? Meanwhile, you're camping in the sand, fighting off the beach beetles?"

She admitted softly. "It _would_ be weird."

"You wouldn't like it."

"No."

"You'd feel a bit betrayed?"

"Yes."

"Maybe…" he gulped hard. "A little jealous?"

"Yeah," she admitted, her heart going _thud_ into her stomach, her face going hot all over.

"Mm-hm," he commented. "Can't say I wouldn't feel the same way if you disappeared behind that stone door with Elbon."

"Really?"

"Of course," he shrugged, as if what he had said were _no big deal. "_ So, we have to find another way in. I'm not going to let you _copulate_ with Elbon if you don't want to, and I'm not going through Nedea for my ticket in, especially if it's going to hurt you. So… what choice do we have?"

"But we only have five days."

"I know. So we'd better hurry."

* * *

Martha retreated to her room, probably shaken from the entire business. That was fine – he had work to do, and amazing as Martha was, one person was generally stealthier than two.

On his previous visit, the Doctor had learned that the gods and goddesses of the Rambaja were called, collectively, the Haeíni. It had occurred to him that this would likely have some connection with the planet Haeín, which neighboured the planet where the Rambaja resided by less than a light-year. They were a million years or so ahead of the Rambaja, as far as sophistication and technology. It would not be difficult for them to convince a less-sophisticated civilisation that they were gods, and that they demanded certain things. He had certainly seen the like before.

 _Perhaps I can find a way into Rambaja without offending the natives, and release an undue stranglehold on the people at the same time. Two birds,_ he thought, as he materialised the TARDIS on the planet Haeín.

A quick search on the part of the TARDIS had revealed a particularly esoteric seat of government on an island, which contained only a building, and the Doctor assumed, a council of individuals who ran the racket of string-pulling in Rambaja. He sonicked and psychic-papered his way in, and found himself on the inside of a triangular room with an equally triangular table in the middle. A man and a woman sat at the table, and in the centre, there was a pyramid upon some kind of pedestal, and it glowed pink and white alternatingly. Around the edges of the room, people of different ilks and sexes sat at work stations, each with their own, smaller pyramid.

"Hello," said the man in the centre, calmly, as the Doctor entered the room and the door slid shut behind him. "How did you get in here?"

"Me? Oh, I was on the tour, and I guess I must've wandered off."

The man smiled indulgently. "That's the very epitome of nonsense, sir. I think you must be an intruder."

"Yeah, well, call it a hobby," the Doctor said, striding forward. "So, what do we have here?" He was peering forward at the main pyramid.

"Sorry," said the woman, standing. "Who are you?"

He faced her and smiled. "I'm the Doctor, hello. And you are?"

"I am the Diess of the Rambajan Haeíni," she answered, standing up very straight. She was rather tall, and if she were human, the Doctor would have guessed her to be about sixty. She had curly hair that probably used to be blonde, and a handsome, womanly visage. "And this is my brother, the Diety." She indicated the man, still seated across from her. Eyes around the room stared at the proceedings with a mixture of disbelief and concern.

"I see," said the Doctor. "And this must be the remote control." He leant forward again and peered into the pink and white churning pyramid in the middle of their table.

"Pardon me," said the Diess. "That is not for outsiders' eyes! I demand that you tell us what business you have here, or leave immediately and never return!" She had stomped round her chair to put herself between the Doctor and the table.

"One moment, sister," said the man known as _the Diety_ , getting to his feet. He looked around the same age, but he was of average height, and cut a much less picturesque figure. "Sir, did you say that your name is the Doctor?"

"Yes, I did," said the Doctor.

"The Doctor? _The_ Doctor? The Time Lord?"

"Yes. You've heard of me, then."

"Of course!" exclaimed the Deity. "Your reputation reaches the farthest corners of the universe! Oh, I am a great admirer of your work! What brings you here, old man?" With this, he smacked the Doctor on the back in a gesture of exaggerated camaraderie.

"W-well, erm, I…," the Doctor stuttered, a bit taken aback. "I'm here to inquire about the Rambaja."

"Yes, certainly. What about them?" asked the Deity.

"Brother!" hissed the Diess, who clearly did not trust the Doctor at all.

"Oh, stop," the brother scolded. "This man can be trusted. He has saved the universe from destruction many a time. He had probably saved our planet, and that of the Rambaja, a hundred times over as well. If he's here inquiring, it means he's trouble-shooting, am I correct?" He looked askance at the Doctor.

"You are," the Doctor said. "It's… well, it's all too involved to explain the whole thing. Let's just say, my vehicle, my TARDIS, needs fixing, and in order to do it, a roundabout chain of events has led me here."

"How can we be of service?"

"Well," the Doctor said, tugging on his ear. He fell into semi-deep thought at that point, and took a quick walk round the room. Then he stopped, because something occurred to him. A shortcut! "I don't suppose you could put out psychic feelers across the universe to locate a power source that could mimic that of a black hole armoury thingie that was lost with my planet? One that is not only infinitely powerful, but also totally up-for-grabs?"

"Oh, I don't think that's something we can do," said the Deity. "We're not psychic like the Rambajans. I'm assuming you've checked with them, and that's why you're here?"

The Doctor nodded. "Well, so much for that idea," he muttered.

"Sorry," the Deity said.

The Doctor piped up. "Am I correct in assuming that you lot are their _gods_?"

"Yes," said the Deity. "My sister and I act as their Great Goddess and Great God, respectively. Others that you see around the room are auxiliary deities to them."

"So you just sit up here, directing traffic, asking for offerings while the Rambaja believe that they're being commanded by supernatural beings? Isn't that a bit…"

"No, not a bit," said the Diess. She had relaxed somewhat. "Our grandfather, forty-eight generations back, was born there, in the very space that is now the walled city. He farmed the soil. He fed his family on the crops grown from that dirt. He is, in fact, the progenitor of the people."

"The progenitor? You mean, the grandfather, forty-eight generations back, of all of them?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "He and his soul are tied to the land, you see. But when his children were small, he was kidnapped for ransom and brought here to Haeín. Alas, the ransom was never paid because his people couldn't find the resources. He was heartsick about not being able to return to them, but he was dazzled by the technology he found here, and he devised a way to communicate with them."

Her brother took up the narrative at this stage. "But they were so primitive, they couldn't understand what was happening when waves of light and sound would reach their midst, asking questions and whatnot. They thought he was a spirit, a disembodied entity of some sort. So, he took to telling them he was an ancestral deity. The Great God, as they now say. It was only _half_ a lie, really."

"Let me guess," the Doctor said. "When he died, the title and duties got passed down to children he had on _this_ planet."

"Yes. He had a son and a daughter after he came to Haeín, and they began to watch over Rambaja together, and provide for them. The family has grown, of course, and these days, in each generation, we have to have an election within the family, to see who acts as the Diess and the Diety of the Rambajan Haeíni. Over the centuries, others have joined in as needs have arisen for the people there. Those are jobs that are advertised and hired-for – they are not in-family positions. But our screening process is extremely rigourous. We hire only those who would put the good of Rambaja before anything else, save their own families."

"I see," remarked the Doctor.

"We have a deity of water-source finding, fertility and agriculture, for learning forgiveness, for self-improvement…"

"How exactly do you deities provide for them?" asked the Doctor.

"We have a system of quantum-physical and astrophysical manipulation that uses molecular and atomic splitting and propulsion to relay messages, and allow us to see into their world, and their surroundings. We observe, and give them advice. Sometimes we wait for them to pray for help, other times not."

"Ah, I see. And they don't have to ask aloud, because they're psychic. They aim their prayers in your direction, and you catch them with your highly refined technology."

"Exactly. The descendants of the progenitor who remained in Rambaja have evolved into powerfully psychic beings, but they are still backward, and unsophisticated. We have not evolved in the same way, because we have not needed to. For them, it is about survival. If we can hear their prayers, their prayers get answered. Adaptations that are advantageous become the norm, eventually. It's really quite beautiful."

The Doctor smiled. "Okay, I've just got to ask," he said. "You say that you provide for them because of your common ancestral ties… it's kind of the family business now. But come on! You _must_ ask for something in return?"

The brother and sister pair looked at each other blankly. "No, nothing," she said. "We ask nothing in return. What could they give us? There is nothing they could provide, no way for them to benefit us, Doctor."

"What about the shagging?" the Doctor asked boldly, still with a big smile on his face. "What's with that?"

"The what?" asked the Deity.

"I have never heard that word before," said the Diess.

"The copulation," the Doctor said. "The _formal greeting_ required of anyone who wishes to enter the city. Imbuing one man and one woman with your _essences_ , and making them like night-club bouncers and prostitutes at the same time. It's kind of odd."

"The act of copulation in those cases, Doctor, is purely ceremonial," said the Diess.

"For the imbuing, we use a quantum-physical process which requires an exchange of energy signatures," explained her brother.

"It demands a great deal of commitment and deep meditation on the part of the surrogates," continued the sister. "They concentrate their meditation in our direction, and we are able to lock onto it, take a sample of their more fervent energies, exchange it with some of ours, and send it back."

"We choose the most aesthetically pleasing of men and women amongst the population, to make the formal greeting easier on outsiders," said the Deity. "Of course, these two surrogates must also be very gifted at meditation in order to accomplish this. The current male surrogate, Elbon, he is exceptional…"

"Stop, stop talking, both of you," demanded the Time Lord. "You didn't answer my question. I didn't ask _how_ , I asked _why."_

"Because, Doctor," said the Deity. "If you understand quantum-physics, you will believe me. It is hoped that over time, the Haeíni… _we_ can be part of Rambaja again. Part of the spirit of the people, maybe even eventually the literal soil, crops and air. And not just that, but we hope to fuse ourselves with all planets. Not to take them over, but to observe, be one with the universe as quantum theory tells us we ought to be."

"Quantum theory tells you that you already are," the Doctor corrected.

"Perhaps we're looking for something a bit more literal, then," the brother told him, a bit sheepishly. "Copulation is our medium because it hurts no-one. And when fervent energies are shared at a visceral level, it is hoped that a quantum exchange might take place."

"Has that ever actually happened?" he asked, sceptically.

"Only a handful of times over the centuries," the Diess admitted. "On the part of very powerful, prescient, all-seeing beings such as yourself. But it's enough success to give us hope."

"So let me get my head round this," the Doctor said. "You're talking about, er, a _coital event_ so powerful that a change occurs in the participants, and the subatomic level. That they literally exchange pieces of themselves forever and take with them what they have wrought. And you're hoping that this happens enough times that your essences will eventually pervade the whole universe."

"Yes," the siblings said, in unison.

"Wow, that is just… wow," he managed.

The truth was, he couldn't decide whether these folks were mad or geniuses. Perhaps they were both. He couldn't decide whether they represented the ultimate in philanthropy, or whether they were perhaps closeted megalomaniacs.

No matter – he had learned what he needed to from them. He now knew how to get around the standing norm that all incoming visitors to Rambaja must grant a formal greeting to the gods, by way of sexual congress with surrogates named Nedea and Elbon. Those two _lovely_ individuals were now out of the picture. And he'd likely be able to get it accomplished, and get the Councils within the city walls searching for a power source, within the next day or so.

* * *

The Doctor's research had yielded a plethora of information in a very short time. Thanks to a pair of open and loquacious "deities," and his far-reaching reputation as basically a really good guy, he had had to do very little actual probing or footwork.

The following morning, Martha was late in coming to the console room, so he decided to rouse her. He knew that discussing what needed to be done in order to gain entry into Rambaja would be awkward, so he wanted to get it over with.

But she was not in her bed. Nor was she in the kitchen, library nor game room.

A thought occurred to him, and he followed his instinct.

He found her sitting cross-legged on the platform in the Cloister Room, staring wistfully into the Eye of Harmony.

"Hi." His single syllable echoed as he came into the room.

"Oh, hi," Martha said, turning around. "Looks like the Eye has opened even further."

"I see that," he commented, looking over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry I'm not being very cooperative about the whole formal greeting thing. I know it would just be easier if I…"

"Don't worry," he said. "And don't apologise."

"Okay. But I _am_ sorry."

"It's all right. I did some reconnaissance last night. Found out some stuff about the so-called _gods_."

"Yeah?"

He proceeded to explain the history of Rambaja and its deities, in as much detail as he could remember, including why they asked for the formal greeting.

"Sounds… kind of beautiful, in its way," Martha mused. "Is it legitimate? I mean, did you feel they were telling the truth about providing for Rambaja, and all that?"

"Oh, it's all very real," he said. "And frankly, I have no desire to offend the gods, even if they are just mortals using technology. The city and the gods, they have a good, symbiotic set-up, and I think it works for them. We should not break their rules, and we should do nothing to compromise the system."

"So have you found a way around the rule or not?" she asked.

"I have," he said.

"What is it?"

"Martha, I understand why you don't want to have ceremonial sex with a total stranger," he told her. "But would you do it with me?"


	3. Chapter 3

**I said this story would be three parts... I may have lied. I foresee at least four. :-D**

 **Here comes (ahem) ritual #1. NSFW!**

 **Hope you find it utterly delicious! Leave a review!**

* * *

III

Once again, standing across the glassy pond from Queen Wissance, the Doctor waited for an answer.

Martha stood next to him in something of a state of confusion, as he had not laid out the plan for her. After having listened to his story about the gods and how they infuse surrogates with their essence through meditation, she had _some_ idea of what he might be hatching. But she was having a bit of difficulty thinking clearly at this juncture. He had short circuited her brain when he'd asked if, though she'd refused to copulate with a stranger, whether she would do so with someone she knew: namely, _him._ She had stuttered for what felt like an hour, before he finally grabbed her hand and said, "Come on. Let's go talk to the Queen."

"We wish to gain entry into your city," the Doctor had said to Wissance. "Though your terms, as they stand, are not acceptable to us. But if you would hear me out as a friend to Rambaja…"

He had asked her to prepare the "greeting rooms," release Nedea and Elbon for the day, and leave him and Martha alone.

Wissance seemed to understand what he meant to do. She gave him a smile, and said, "It won't work, Doctor."

"Will it not work because you won't let it work?"

"No," she chuckled. "It won't work because… this isn't how it works. Our surrogates are chosen for…"

"For their ability to meditate," he said.

"No…"

"Yes," he protested. "Well, that, and because they're pretty."

Wissance looked at him with as much beatific exasperation she could muster.

"Let us try," he continued. "If it doesn't work, then we'll go back to the drawing board. Please. The Eye of Harmony is opening wider every moment – we don't have time to waste. This is the solution I've come up with – please give us the benefit of the doubt," he urged.

Wissance stared at, and into, the Doctor for several long moments. She appeared to be sizing him up, contemplating his words, wondering if she could really give him what he asked for.

"Fine," she said, at last. "Again, I don't think it will work, but you are a friend to Rambaja, as you said, and it's in all of our best interests to see your TARDIS repaired."

"Indeed it is. Thank you."

"Just know, Doctor," the Queen said, authoritatively. "If you offend the gods, there will be nothing I can do for you."

"We understand," the Doctor confirmed, taking Martha's hand. "We will offend no-one."

"All right then," she said. "Good luck to you."

"Oi, any advice?" the Doctor said loudly, to stop the Queen walking away. She turned, and he continued. "Any, say, _technicalities_ we don't know about?"

"You'll need to wear the ceremonial garb of a Supplicator," she told him.

"A beggar?" Martha whispered.

"The person who is trying to get into the city is the Supplicator," he whispered back.

"And the ceremony must be _completed_ , Doctor," she said. "Complete for all parties involved. Is my meaning clear to you?"

"Crystal," he confirmed. Then, "How would we know whether or not it's worked?"

"The city doors will open to you," Wissance said with a smile. "I hope to see you on the other side. But I probably won't."

Martha gulped so hard, she could have swallowed a cricket ball.

* * *

Still holding her hand, the Doctor led Martha to the left, toward one of the secondary pyramids, and through the door marked as "male." The stone portal slid aside as they approached, and closed behind them once inside.

He begged off for a moment and stepped behind a screen to don the ceremonial robe of the Supplicator, as he would be the first of them to enter the city. It was made of something resembling linen, and it had been dyed a bluish-grey. Like the habit of a monk, there was a crude tie at the waist, and a hood hanging down the back. However, very _unlike_ a monk's garment, this one had a zip that seemed to span the majority of the length of the Doctor's body, from mid-shin to clavicle.

While he was behind the screen, Martha took the opportunity to inspect the room. It was cavern-like, and seemed to be cut from charcoal-coloured stone. When Martha looked up, she saw a chandelier of black, stylised wrought-iron hanging above, creating a warm ambient light. There was a large circular rug beneath it, featuring concentric rings of red and purple. There were two wide armchairs facing each other, a sofa facing them on the side, and a padded table about waist-high, behind the sofa. It was rectangular, and the short end was pressed against the wall. In the corner, there were a couple of what looked like dining-room chairs, and a small cabinet of some sort.

And then, of course, there was a bed. It too sat upon a giant circular red and purple rug. The headboard was made of the same swirly, stylised wrought-iron, as was the canopy. Drapes of red and purple hung from the bars above, and even above that, the same drapes hung from the ceiling at intervals, giving this part of the room a cushy, plush feeling.

The Doctor came out from behind the screen wearing the robe, and watched her explore.

"You _do_ understand what this room is for, yeah?" he asked.

"I do," she answered, distractedly.

"Right," he said quietly. "And you understand why you and I are here?"

She blinked a few times as if coming out of a fog, and answered, "I think so."

"I know I didn't give you a chance to answer when I asked you if…"

"Yes, you did," she interrupted. "I just… wasn't able to answer."

"Well, I don't want to make assumptions," he said, and she saw him waver, though he tried to be steady.

"I'm fine."

"If you don't want to do this, just tell me. I won't be cross, I promise. I'll change back into my own clothes and we can find another way," he said, gesturing emphatically. "I mean, yes, granted, we're running out of time, but there are other psychics out there. And even if the distortion does occur, we still have…"

"Are you _serious_?" she asked, quite serious herself, and completely cutting across his rambling.

He backed off, chastised. "Well, I was, yes."

"Do you not know me _at all_?" She scowled deeply.

He cleared his throat. "Well, again… I don't want to make assumptions."

"If I had a problem, I'd have said something by now," she told him, annoyed. She took a pause, and before she could stop herself, she asked, "Are _you_ okay with it?"

"Me? Absolutely. I'm… I'm okay. I'm better than okay. I'm…"

"Good. Now what's next?"

He nodded vigourously, nervously. "Right, good. Next. Erm… we'll need a candle." He crossed to the little cabinet in the corner and peered inside. "Wow. I just don't want to know what most of this stuff is for."

He crossed back to her with a red candle in his hand, and a book of matches. Dressed the way he was, he definitely looked a bit like a monk. On another occasion, she might have chuckled. As it stood, she was too anxious to find the humour.

"What do I need to do?" she asked him.

"Find a place that's comfortable for meditation," he answered.

"Okay, er…" she looked about. She chose one of the red, velvety armchairs. It was wide enough for her to sit with her legs crossed lotus-style.

The Doctor sat in the chair opposite and placed the candle on the floor in front of her, and lit it, careful not to let his bulky sleeves catch fire. He encouraged her to focus on it, breathe deeply, relax, let her mind go clear of the here and now…

He gave her a few minutes to regulate her breathing, and to inhale some of the therapeutic essence in the candle. He soothed her, then he began to talk to her again about the gods he had met, on the planet Haeín, who they were, their ancestral ties, and their history. He described them, their voices and mannerisms in as much detail as he could remember. He even tried to help her visualise where their planet was located in relation to the one where they currently sat.

"Now, think about yourself," he said, as she fell further into the meditation. He spoke in short phrases, and was careful to speak slowly and leave significant gaps between each phrase. "Think of your full self. Medicine. Family. Everything you love. Everything you've done. Everything you've committed to. Everything that's made you angry or sad. All of it. Contemplate your own body. Your aches, your strength. How do you move? How do you breathe? How does it feel to move and breathe? Think of eating, drinking, laughing… taking a warm bath. Think of a thrill, a rush. Wind in your hair, adrenaline pumping. Think of both pleasure and pain… what hurts, and feels good at the same time? Lovemaking? Running a marathon? Seeing the world, seeing the universe?"

"Yes," she whispered in response. She had no idea she'd said it.

"Contemplate your consciousness, your body, and all that is you. Swim in it. Sink into Martha."

He gave her a few minutes to do this… to dig into her self.

While he waited, he paced back and forth and watched her. Against his own will, he examined her closed eyes, and the perfection of her face. Resting, expressionless, but still so expressive. The potential within, as he knew, was enormous – that is to say, the range of _feeling_ in the woman, every bit of which he felt he had seen register across her features, on her cheeks and her flawless full lips.

He also admired the contour of her neck and shoulders, the gorgeous golden brown colour of her skin as revealed by her tank top; he watched her bosom rise and fall with each slow, meaningful breath. And suddenly, he was assaulted by the purpose of their visit to this room. As he regarded her, he knew it in his gut and in his bones: this was happening. It wasn't just an idea or a concept… it was real. There she was, flesh and blood and breath. Later today, they would both be inside the city walls of Rambaja (or they wouldn't), and their relationship would be _different._ No matter how much they tried to sweep it under the rug, the next hour of their lives would change everything.

He felt a sudden rush of tense heat, and tried in vain to push up the sleeves of his dusty blue robe. However, no part of him wished to force this process into retreat. He did not want to turn back, he found… he only wanted to push forward.

He martialed himself into a calm, into sitting back down in the chair opposite, and speak so as to help her through her meditation, and not alarm her.

"Martha Jones, expand your mind. Think about it all at once. All that is you, and the planet Haeín. The gods who run the city of Rambaja. Intertwine it, make it all one. Concentrate on infusing them together, as though you _are_ a goddess, and the goddess is you. Visualise it. And now, aim your consciousness at them, at her. Give of your self," he lulled.

And then he stood again, and began to aim the sonic screwdriver in her direction, making large circles so as not to damage her hearing, and ramping up whatever signal she was sending. He hadn't really stopped to consider what might happen if Martha's powers of concentration proved insufficient…

Martha never saw it, but a blue glow surrounded her as the Doctor enhanced her meditation. It was beautiful, but not for her eyes.

"In a few minutes, you will feel _a presence_ within you," he said. "Don't be afraid – this is good. It's the Great Goddess, the Diess of the Haeíni, gifting you with part of her own being. Let her in – try not to resist."

And in her fog, Martha did feel something foreign creep into her mind, the implantation of knowledge of these ancestral lands, and the desire to diffuse her essence across the cosmos. A brother who is a Deity, an entire family with ties to this city – so far away, with so many more blips and lights surrounding them.

It was terrifying, but the Doctor's voice echoed inside her mind with the specific instruction to let it in. A presence. Another consciousness.

Sharing her mind.

And now her body as well.

When she opened her eyes, though, and found the Doctor kneeling, staring back at her with concern, she felt like herself.

"I don't know if she's still with me," Martha whispered.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"I felt her a moment ago, but now I feel like me! I know because…" And then she retreated from her statement, because then she'd have to tell him that the intensity, the worry in his eyes was making her melt, and that just the very sight of him in these moments, the anticipation was taking her breath away. That the last six months of travel with him was all crashing across her mind like a ton of bricks and…

She'd have to tell him that she knew she was herself because _she wanted him._

"Have I lost her?" she asked, a little scared. "Have I somehow let go of the Diess?"

"Only one way to find out," he said, blowing out the candle, and setting it aside. He offered her his hands. She took them, and he pulled her to a standing position.

Then he lurched forward, grasped her cheeks, jaw and jowls in his large hands and pressed his mouth into hers. He did this very much as he had only once before in a hospital on the moon, but longer, harder and with more… everything. More feeling, more vigour, more passion. There was more _knowing_ in this kiss, more promise, more body.

And then, the kiss deepened. He pressed his tongue against her lips, and she opened them to meet him halfway. That's when he slid his hands and arms down over her back and shoulders and pulled her close. Her arms closed around his neck, and for a long few moments, they just enjoyed it... the feeling of falling, and of something beginning.

On some level, both, for different reasons, felt that this was the kiss that had been hanging in the air between them ever since they took off together after Leo's birthday, all those months ago. They'd finally reached out and grabbed it, only to find it absolutely addicting.

His fingers crawled down just a bit further and found the tail of her burgundy tank top. He tugged, and she stepped back somewhat reluctantly with her arms overhead, and let him remove it. A burgundy satin and lace bra was all that remained above the waist. She gave him only a few seconds to admire – he couldn't help but do so. The colour made her skin glow, and as before, he marvelled at sheer _perfection._

In her turn, she took hold of the zip just below his Adam's apple and began to pull slowly. As she did, he untied the white braid at his waist. When the zip reached the level of his hips, Martha slid her hands beneath the fabric across his shoulders, and helped him shrug it off. The linen robe pooled on the floor and he was left wearing only an undergarment – a pair of shorts – which she assumed were his own, because they were dark blue with red pinstripes. This detail made her smile. The fact that they were also quite misshapen in the front… this made her blood boil.

The rush of lust made her feel audacious, and she pressed her hand against that delicious-looking bulge, and she felt it throb against her touch. She stroked through the fabric for a few seconds, and listened to him groan. The groan itself was another powerful spur to her.

Breathlessly, she met his eye. A wolfish look came over his features, and in response, they fell into another tangle of arms and flesh, this one more fevered than the last. It was the first time they had ever felt one another, flesh-on-flesh. The sensation was hot, sparking like the frayed ends of cables. It had been so long since either one of them had been touched, it was like a literal shock. Their hands roved and explored, almost of their own volition. They held the kiss, and then they held it longer, because their bodies did not want to be apart, it seemed, ever again.

But they weren't even approaching the finish line yet – they had barely begun. So the Doctor took half a step back and fell to his knees. He let his hands slide down the sides of her breasts and over her waist. He unfastened the button and zip in the front of her jeans, and began tugging them down. They fit tightly on her curvy body, so he helped her peel them off her legs, then step out of them.

He placed his hands firmly on her hips and began trailing kisses and tiny licks all the way from one hip bone to the other. His lips and tongue created a path across the smooth, flat expanse of stomach, following the low-slung waist band of her black cotton knickers. She breathed deeply, and leaned her head back, sighing hard, trying not to collapse.

And when he reached the other hip, he began following the same pathway back in the other direction. But when he reached the middle, he slid his hands back over her bum and squeezed gently, while his mouth slipped down just the few inches needed to make her yelp. Through the frustrating, and soaked-through, black fabric, his tongue found her cleft, and probed. Even with the barrier, she sensation nearly made her hit the ceiling, and she dug her fingernails into his scalp. The rest of his mouth then closed over, and he began to suck. He tasted the juices that had already drenched her pants, and savoured the cries she gave as she dug her fingernails into his scalp and shoulders.

She couldn't sustain it – it was too much of an assault on her senses. It was too much to ask for her to stay on her feet. It was too much to ask for her to wait.

So she kicked off her knickers, and he lifted himself up backward and put his bum in the chair.

Martha shed her bra, then she bent a bit, reached forward, never breaking eye contact and stroked his cock through his shorts. Sneakily, her fingers reached inside and extracted the ever-hardening thing. She then pressed against his shoulders with both hands to signal that he should lie back – which he did.

She stepped forward, planting one knee on either side of him, digging into the firm red cushion. She braced herself against his shoulder while she grasped his cock with her free hand and lowered herself. She was slick as silk, and slid down with no difficulty, filling her body, blurring her vision and overloading her nerves.

He groaned once again, and promptly sat up straight and grasped her around the waist with both arms. She used his shoulders for leverage and moved against him so as to put absolutely no daylight between them. Her thigh muscles took the brunt of the effort as she pumped up and down, creating the seeds of an explosion in the space that they shared. She bent her head forward and planted her lips and tongue against the flesh of his neck, and nipped and bit softly as he slid into her and then nearly out again… and then in, straight to her centre, and then very nearly out.

And he groaned with every possibility that she would let him slip out, then again each time her liquid warmth sheathed him. He shivered each time her tongue raked across his jugular. And every time she sighed or moaned, he wanted to turn her over onto the floor and press her into it until they both burned to the ground. He hadn't felt that way in ages, quite so beautifully volatile. She'd brought out something in him he'd thought perhaps was dead, and was still pulling. With every move she made, that thing, that _passion,_ that overwrought, drenching, raw _life_ inside came further and further to the surface. It felt absolutely exquisite to be forced to this edge, to squirm this way, to be so raw and at her mercy.

Martha felt lucid, but absently wondered if something about the goddess' presence was spurring her on, making her impudent, more apt to _take_ , than she would normally have been. She spread her hands over the Doctor's cheeks and neck and held his head in place while she looked into his eyes, and let him _see_ _her_ being greedy, taking all that she needed. Every thrust to her core, every slippery upstroke… she shuddered, and she let him watch.

And it just wasn't like her! There was most definitely a primeval desire that lived in her always, especially in those close moments with the Doctor when all she could think of was his scent and his voice, his neck, his eyes, lips, and amazing, _amazing_ brain. And that force certainly egged her on to fantasies about impaling herself upon him and riding out the storm until it washed them both away. But in real moments with him, she rarely even had the courage to look him very frankly in the eye, let alone… what she was doing now. Then again, the seizing of a fleeting opportunity, and a spectacular infusion of pure lust, would do wonders for one's initiative.

Their flesh was melded, and as they navigated their way through the heat and growing desperation, perspiration appeared on their temples, necks, chests and backs. It was intense and searing, but all they wanted was more. He pulled her in closer with both arms, she pushed her knees in tighter. The friction was both unbearable and decadent, and they pushed and pulled in search of fire.

Now, she alternated between burying her hands, forearms and face in his hair, and tilting her head back, to accommodate the pressure, to vent the moans from the tempest that gathered inside. She ground her hips in circles, and she felt an eruption rising, a slick, surging release.

And just when she thought she would drop from the intensity, the heat, the exhaustion, she heard him hiss her name, felt his fingers dig into her flesh, then felt a hefty throb inside and knew he was releasing into her, filling her with his own ardour. She felt his hips rise up, noticed his breathing catch, and heard the fractured, blistering moan that escaped his lips. He seemed to come like a geyser, and it was such a boon to her, nothing in any universe could have stopped her from following.

And so she shattered inside. Her vision went to ink blotches for a few moments, as every fibre of her being bore down, looking for something more to consume. Her fists filled with locks of his hair and she pulled until the explosion abated and the waves died down.

And as Martha sat up to look back at him, and he gazed up at her in surprise at what she had just provided to them both, a door opened on the opposite side of the room from where they had entered. Through it, there was more charcoal-coloured stone, but a definite tinge of daylight shone through.

Their eyes were drawn to it, but then they turned their attention back to one another.

"Looks like you're in," she said with a smile. "Welcome to Rambaja, Doctor."

"Thank you," he said. "You're going to need a ticket in, though."

"I know," she sighed.

"I'll get started meditating after I regain feeling below the waist."

She chuckled. "Fair enough."

"Meet you in the other pyramid, say, in an hour's time?"

"Sure," she lilted with a warm smile and a kiss to his very warm lips.


	4. Chapter 4

**This is the thrilling conclusion of "Formalities." Our heroes have one more tumble ahead of them (which I hope you find intense and evocative, though brief), plus some revelations and closure! Hope you have enjoyed this silly little story of mine! Thank you for reading!**

 **And please don't forget to review! Mmmwah!**

* * *

IV

As she was vacating the pyramid through the "front" door, and the Doctor through the door on the city side, Nedea was being ushered back in by Queen Wissance and two other women. One of the women was holding a candle in front of Nedea, which looked and smelled exactly like the one the Doctor had used to help Martha meditate. Apparently, she was being re-imbued straight away. Martha wondered if there was a new male arrival asking for access to the city.

A lulling, womanly voice passing by brought her out of a reverie of sorts.

"Congratulations," Wissance was saying. "You must have embodied the Goddess well, Miss Jones."

"Erm, thanks," Martha said, a little rankled by the comment.

She did not like that anyone knew what she and the Doctor had just done (even though the pyramid had been built for just such a thing, and _of course_ everyone knew what they were doing). She found that now that her fondest desire had come to pass, she did not want to share it with anyone. She was highly uncomfortable in this openly sexual arena, where the goings-on in the ceremonial pyramids were a matter of public business.

She had an hour to kill now. _Why so long?_ she wondered. _Is that the Doctor's projected recovery time?_ She decided not to think too hard about it, as it only made her more nervous, as she fretfully wondered what _he_ was doing during that time. Talking to people? Discussing their tryst?

Just now, she felt exposed and fragile, and did not wish to make eye-contact with anyone... best just to enter the pyramid opposite and wait there.

She made her way across the walkway, round the pond and over the other walkway. She approached the pyramid whose door was labelled with the symbol for _female_ , and the door opened to her.

This time she knew just what to do, so she stepped behind the screen and found a Supplicant's robe approximately the right length for her. _She_ was now the party trying to get into Rambaja, so she peeled off the clothes she had hastily put back on just a few minutes before, and donned the robe.

This time, she also knew more of what to expect from him, which, paradoxically, terrified her.

Before, she'd gone in with the Doctor having no idea of what he really _felt_ like, the texture and temperature of his skin, how he moved in moments of primal blindness. It was all new and exploratory.

But now she _knew_ all those things, because she had tasted them… and one taste had given her hunger something to cling to. The electricity in his touch, the sinews of his arms, shoulders and chest. Of course, the still-tangible ghost of him sliding in and out of her, and the bracing and shuddering when he came. It had all been one glorious symphony as far as she was concerned…

…and she was here to repeat it. Only now, she had expectations that were accurate (and high), and not based on fantasy. She had desires rooted in experience, not in a schoolgirl fever. She still had the impressions of his flesh against hers within her sense memory, and the symphony played in her head – she couldn't stop it. All of this knowing amounted to more anticipation, more heat rippling through her, more nervousness, more need, more want…

"Just calm down, Martha," she chided herself.

What she did not have this time was the benefit of a guided meditation to help her rest her nerves. All she had was a big room, exactly like the other one, except it was a mirror image. It was empty except for her and the furniture, but cosy in its way. And she reckoned that the pacing back and forth she was doing was actually causing more harm than good. So, she lay down on the bed, above the covers, with her head on the pillow. Placing her hands across her stomach, she did some breathing exercises she had learned for relaxation. If she played her cards right, the next hour could simply fly by.

* * *

The city-side door opened, and woke her from a light sleep. It was the umpteenth sound that had done as much – the building settling, birds outside, the climate control system kicking on and off. Her "sleep" had been, if anything, a snooze. A drifting-off. A nod.

But the door opening brought her properly out of it, and her eyes darted to the source of the noise. A figure appeared in the doorway, a familiar one with a slim build and disheveled hair.

"Hi," he said, rather casually, crossing the room, and allowing the door to slide shut behind him. He was wearing the burgundy tee-shirt he'd had on underneath his dress shirt before they had entered the first pyramid, and his pin-striped trousers. In his right hand he carried his jacket, shirt, tie, socks and shoes. He tossed them onto one of the armchairs.

"How's the city?" she asked, unsure of what else to say.

"Beautiful," he said with a little smirk. "Can't wait for you to see it."

He approached the bed and crawled up onto his knees near the foot.

"Getting ready to meditate?" she asked, quietly.

"Hm? Oh, no. It's already done. Colour me imbued."

She took in a sharp breath before she could stop it, which betrayed her nervousness. "Oh. Really?"

"Yeah. What else was I going to do with that hour?"

"I dunno," she chuckled. "Lounge about and obsess over what's going to happen next? Maybe give yourself a nervous ulcer? You should try it, it's fun."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Nervous, really? Even now?"

"Especially now," she breathed.

Still smiling crookedly, he shook his head, and removed his tee-shirt. He then eased forward, planting both hands on the bed on either side of her.

"Shall we see what we can do about those nerves?" he asked, using one hand now to tug at the braided sash around her waist, and pulling it loose.

"I don't think that's going to help," she said, already melting into desire, just watching him _undo_ what she was wearing. He fluttered a naughty eyebrow at her, and the sash came untied.

He reached toward her collar bone and grasped the zip of her cloak, locking onto her eyes with his. He seemed to search her as he tugged at the little metal gadget, exposing a long strip of her skin to the open air, inch by inch.

When he reached the bottom of the zip, somewhere between her knees, he sat back and used both hands to disengage one side from the other. He laid the garment open and looked her over. She had discarded all of her undergarments when she'd changed into the cloak, and the sight of her, extended and bare, was almost inebriating. Before, she had been upright and basically in control. Now, she was all his. For the taking, for the relishing. The possibilities and impulses made him feel a bit addled.

But he found his bearings soon enough. He wrapped his hands around her waist and slid them underneath her body, while his lips found the valley between her breasts. He kissed and licked and teased his way southward. And then those lips found her stomach and abdomen. She sucked in a sharp breath as his tongue dipped into her navel just for a fleeting half-second. Her thighs parted almost involuntarily, and she groaned with disappointment as his journey led him upwards again, toward her ribs.

He dragged his tongue across her skin now, and slid his hands up behind her scapulae. She arched with a moan when his tongue found first one nipple and then the other. He teased and sucked, bit and kneaded, all the while trying to hold her steady, as the sensation threatened to make her hit the ceiling. Eventually, he raked his lips up her neck, across her jaw and rested on her own lips, and his whole body pressed down on her. His tongue probed her mouth. He was hungry. He was hard. He was blinded by the experience of her.

And with that heady kiss, quite suddenly, his control seemed to leave him. He groaned, clutched at her, clung to her mouth desperately and he seemed to grind his pelvis into her, uncaring that there was at least one layer of clothing holding him back.

So she disengaged her arms from the wide sleeves of the cloak, and her hands went to his waist band and fumbled with the button. In her haste, she managed to detach one end of the fabric from the other, but she had no idea whether she had torn the thread, and she didn't particularly care. Next she went for the zip and promptly opened it.

To her surprise, he flung himself sideways and lay on his back. He wriggled out of his trousers from there and threw them aside.

Just as quickly, he rolled back atop her, locked onto her gaze with a great ache in his eyes, and he drove into her with force. She gasped in surprise, but her whole body buzzed. Pleasure, anticipation, just a hint of pain. Her thighs grasped him, and her ankles met behind his bum.

He gave her almost no room nor time for breath. He thrust in and out in steady, long, fierce strokes, and managed to shock her with the ravenousness of his movements. An hour after their first encounter, he was seemingly _so ready_ to be with her again, and his body's drive betrayed anxiousness, craving, need, compulsion. It was as if, once he'd felt the ecstasy and influence of her, he would need more and more. It was akin to how _she_ had felt coming into this room.

She felt him touch her, crash into her, all the way inside, in places she'd been too preoccupied to feel before. The first time, she now knew, she'd been too wrapped up in her own agenda to understand how all-around powerful he was, and this experience could be.

He breathed hard and said her name and wound his fingers in her hair. He plunged his lips against hers and his tongue into her mouth, and then against her jaw and neck and ear. Words escaped them both, as did complete thoughts. There was a roughness about him, bubbling to the surface and detonating exactly now, exactly here. Mindlessness fogged him, but he didn't just fuck her, he took her like he was addicted to her. Like he wanted to drink her, or disappear into her, or engage every molecule of his being, bottle the moment, burn them both out. To describe it was to feel frustration; it was not a shag, and it was not lovemaking. It was both. And neither. It was far more cathartic than either one, more longed-for, and more explosive.

Twice, his hard thrusts coaxed a throaty cry and an electric slick orgasm out of her. Twice he ground against her, watching her face contort and flush as he urged pleasure through her. He watched her as the sensation subsided, but the craving only grew. He knew that once he'd seen this, Martha Jones' face in the throes of squirming ecstasy, he would never be able to look back. In fact, he did not want this to end even now, but the ache was too deep, the fire too out-of-control. The finish-line was definitely near.

Her senses seemed to heighten as she crashed back to Earth. He dug his elbows into the bed, tightened his fingers in her hair and said that all he wanted was to come inside of her and never stop. Tears came to her eyes. The thrusting over-stimulated her spent body, and the hair-pull was perfectly painful. His words were possessive and thrilling, and she was filled with just him. Everywhere, she felt him. And before long, there was a throb inside of her, a groan beside her ear, and a sudden warmth. She was being flooded. He repeated the groan, and drove in again and again, until he was well and truly finished…

And then the door on the city side of the room slid open, and Martha was welcomed into the city.

* * *

After a long recovery and a brief, sobering talk about how they would sort out their "relationship issues" after the Eye of Harmony was repaired, the Doctor and Martha walked hand-in-hand, fully-clothed, out of the pyramid and down the steps into the city. They were welcomed at the foot of the stairs into the courtyard of the Convening Councils, and later that day, the councils did, indeed, convene. Queen Wissance helped explain to them the Doctor's dilemma concerning the Eye of Harmony, and implored the psychic bodies to begin putting out feelers for an alternate source of power.

"Now what?" asked Martha as they stepped into the foyer of the government building in which all of the 'important' business had taken place. The psychics were on it… there was nothing for them to do.

"Now, we wait," he said.

"Time to kill?"

"Yep. Want to see the Four Craters of Montagwon?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Yes, very convincing."

"Well, it's just… we could talk now. Sort things out before too much time goes by, and it becomes too hard. We have the time. And then…"

When she didn't finish. "Mm? Then?"

"Then I don't have to wait to find out if any of those _formalities_ that we went through actually meant anything to you."

He didn't say anything for a long moment. So she broke the silence herself.

"Unless there's something about the Eye of Harmony being in distress that means the accompanying Time Lord cannot give of himself. In which case… I would understand. I mean, I would know that you're full of it, but I would understand." She sat down on a nearby bench and crossed her arms. She looked at him with a little smirk, and he returned it.

"Okay," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and coming toward her. "You want to do this now? I guess… I guess I can do that."

He sat down beside her.

"Sorry. You know what? We don't have to do this now," she assured him.

"Well, to be honest, I was hoping to have a little cushion of time to sort out what I want to say, and how, but…"

"Ugh, never mind," she said. "We can talk later. I'm being childish. I'm just thinking, _why not now_ because _I_ feel like _I'm_ hanging in limbo. I mean, I can do this any time because I know exactly how I feel and what I want and it's hard to hold back... But I don't want to rush you or put you in an awkward position. So I can wait."

"Listen, Martha…"

"Doctor?" a voice said from somewhere relatively far away in the cavernous, stone space.

It was Queen Wissance, appearing through a door that the travelling pair had not previously noticed.

"Yes?"

"I've had a message from the gods," said the Queen. "They are pleased."

"Oh. Well… we did our best," he said, uneasily.

"And they seek an audience with you," she said. "Come. Come on into our sanctuary and I will extract a member of the Clergy Council to show you how to commune."

"Oh, you know… that's all right," he said, standing up. "I don't think we need any help there. Do we Martha?"

She stood as well. "No, I shouldn't think so," she said, just to go along with the Doctor's flow, as she was used to doing.

"We meditated, and imbued ourselves quite well enough, thanks," the Doctor chirped. "If the gods seek us, then we will commune on our own."

Wissance frowned. She clearly did not like the idea that the Doctor had his own channel to the gods (or at least thought he did). She hadn't believed that their scheme for entering the city would work either…

"As you wish," she said grudgingly, and disappeared back through the door she'd used to enter.

The Doctor held out his hand to Martha. "Fancy a jaunt to Mount Olympus?"

* * *

The TARDIS materialised on the same island and building that housed the Haeíni, the brother and sister pair who seemed to pull all the strings for Rambaja. He and Martha found them sitting as they had been, glowing pyramids, beatific expressions and all.

"Doctor," said the Diess when the two of them entered the room. "And a friend! I see you received our request for a meeting."

"Indeed," he said. "By the way, this is Martha Jones."

"Hi," Martha said, uneasily, trying to resist the urge to ask ten million questions about the room she was standing in.

The Diess and the Deity both came toward them, smiling. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Martha Jones," said the Diess.

"Why are we here?" asked the Doctor.

"Doctor, are we to assume that you have recently entered the city of Rambaja?" asked the Deity.

"Yes," he said. "You recognised me while I was meditating?"

"No, not at all. We don't know one being from another, to be honest, when we get an energy signature fired at us."

The sister chimed in. "But we did notice a huge quantum transfer, a couple of hours ago, and one about an hour before that, as well."

"Ah."

The brother and sister looked at one another. She said, "We felt it would be an unlikely coincidence that you came here to find out more about the imbuing process and the formal greeting, and this happens so soon after."

The brother spoke then. "Remember we mentioned that it was very powerful, prescient, all-seeing beings who had been capable, historically, of creating such a quantum flux in the midst of an energy exchange at the visceral level?"

"What?" Martha asked. "Sorry, but… what?"

The Doctor turned to her. "We talked about how they ask people for the ceremonial copulation as a formal greeting because they want to spread their essences throughout the cosmos as a way to observe the universe… remember that?"

"Yeah."

"They're hoping that Nedea or Elbon, or any given surrogate imbued with the gods' essences, will copulate with someone… well, as they said, powerful, prescient, all-seeing, enough to actually cause some kind of transfer on the quantum level. Said person would be imbued slightly then, himself or herself. Then, in theory, that person would take that essence with them when they leave Rambaja. And maybe spread it around, maybe not."

"Exactly," said the Deity. "And a Time Lord is precisely the type of being that could facilitate a quantum transfer. We detected such a transfer just after we spoke to you, so we assumed that you'd offered a greeting, then gone into the city. But we aren't sure why we detected two transfers."

The Doctor looked at Martha. "It's because Martha imbued herself with the Diess so that I could enter the city. And later, I imbued myself with the Deity so that she could."

The brother and sister looked askance at one another. "Why?" asked the Diess.

"Because… reasons," the Doctor responded. "Mostly to do with the fact that neither one of us felt it desirable nor necessary to shag a stranger. So we found a work-around."

"Oh. That's curious," mused the Deity. "Well, no matter. We've come here to ask for your services on a semi-permanent basis."

"Excuse me?"

"Will you be our male surrogate?" asked the Diess.

Martha coughed, choking on some air.

"Seriously… excuse me?" the Doctor repeated.

"Being imbued with the essence of the Deity," said the Deity. "And being a Time Lord, you'd be able to quantum transfer with every female visitor (or male, if you aren't opposed) to Rambaja. Our objective could be met so much more quickly."

"Erm, no," the Doctor said. "I'm declining that offer. Thanks just the same."

"Doctor, I must implore you…" the Diess began.

"No, no, there's no need for imploring," the Doctor said. He looked at Martha, locking eyes with her. She knew the look on his face. A revelation was coming to him. The wheels were turning. "Because you've got it all wrong."

"Got _what_ all wrong?" asked the Diess.

"Your whole system," he said, not moving his eyes. "The surrogates, your philosophy… all of it."

"I don't understand," the Diess complained.

"How many times, not counting today, has that quantum thing happened?" the Doctor wondered. "You said a handful of times. What does that mean? Twenty? Fifty? A hundred?

"More like ten," said the Deity.

"Do you have a record of those dates?"

"Of course," said the Deity. He gestured to the console where he and his sister had previously been sitting.

"Thing is, my Haeíni friends, I've been to Rambaja before, but I can almost guarantee you that there was no quantum transfer when I made the greeting that time," the Doctor said. "May I?"

Both brother and sister gestured in assent, and the Doctor put one hand on top of the glowing pyramid.

"What are you doing?" Martha wanted to know.

"Feeding in time coordinates… not an exact process, mind you, since I don't actually remember when precisely I was in Rambaja last, but the thing is semi-sentient so I'm willing it to read my mind a bit." After about thirty seconds he stepped away from it. "There. Time coordinate has been entered. Was there a huge move-and-shake of quantum energies that day in Rambaja?"

The Diess and the Deity seemed to peer into the triangle together, then they exchanged a look. "No," said the sister.

"No," the Doctor agreed. "But I was a Time Lord then just as I am now. Prescient, all-seeing, blah blah. Why do you think there was no transfer then?"

"I don't know!" the Diess said, utterly confused. They had based their entire system on the assumption that the process was dependent upon certain types of individuals coming through the city gates, having lent a certain grandiosity to the coital event, and a certain visceral-level sharing of energies. If that was incorrect, then…

"It's because I was shagging a total stranger. It was a means to an end. I just wanted to get into the city, and yeah, the sex was nice… ish, but to be honest, it was awkward for me and I could have lived without it," he said. His eyes came to rest on Martha once again. "But today it was a different story. The transfer was made because a _connection_ was made. Actually, the connection already existed – we just sealed it, if you will"

"Doctor," Martha whispered.

"You lot talk about visceral energies," he continued, never taking his eyes off his companion. "Something powerful happening in our minds, our guts and souls when we open ourselves up and feel the kind of pleasure that forces our bodies to spin out of control… maybe even the kind of pleasure that causes us pain when we think about it because there is always a longing that follows. Well, that can't be achieved with a stranger. That has to be cultivated."

"But those other ten instances…" the Deity began.

"They must have got lucky," the Doctor said. "They found a connection and were lucky. That's all I can say."

The Diess and the Deity were rapt, rather confounded, and now simply waited to hear more.

"What do you generally do when, say, a committed couple arrives asking to enter the city?" he asked them.

"Well…"

"You split them up," the Doctor answered for them. "You have the woman go with Elbon, or whoever the current male surrogate is, and you have the man go with the female surrogate."

"Yes."

"Mark my words," he said, taking Martha's hand. "Let those couples remain together. Have someone nearby who can walk them through the process of meditation and imbuing with your essences, and then leave them alone. I guarantee you, if you let people who _love each other_ make formal greetings together, without the surrogates, you'll find that your _coital events_ are much more productive."

"Oh!" the Diess breathed, her eyebrows raised high, looking off at the wall opposite. She breathed this syllable as though she were just starting to see.

He continued, "Keep Nedea and Elbon around just in case a single person comes through and needs to gain entry… or, then again, you could just let them in without the greeting, since you'll be able to afford to now."

"This is starting to make sense," the Deity said, coming to it slowly.

"I talked yesterday with Queen Wissance about how humans have a difficult time separating sex from emotion, how it can represent a promise made before giving of oneself and one's body that way," the Doctor mused, now talking more to Martha than anyone. "But now that we're here and I'm having this brilliant revelation, I'm realising that it's not just humans. The need to find that connection – the kind you have to cultivate in order to reap the full benefit of the _formal greeting_ , well, it's a basic part of... sentience itself, it might be said."

"I suppose it is," said the Diess.

"This quantum transfer thing is much less lofty than you thought, as it turns out," the Doctor said. "You lot don't need a Time Lord, you just need a little love, a little passion. Which is lucky, because there's only one of me, but there's a whole lot of that other stuff to be had."

* * *

All the way back to the TARDIS, and inside the vessel on the trip back to Rambaja, and even as they spoke with one of the Council members for an update, the Doctor and Martha barely looked at one another.

They took a seat side-by-side on the same bench where they'd sat not too long before, to wait for the Councils to do their good work.

For a long few moments, they said nothing.

"So it looks like the Eye of Harmony situation is going to be okay," Martha said. "I mean, their psychic feelers are leading them in a particular direction – isn't that a good thing?"

"It's a great thing," he sighed. "It might just save the universe. In the next day or two."

"Will you be ready to talk in a day or two?"

He leaned his head back against the wall and looked at her with a tired smile. "We don't need to talk, Martha."

"We don't?"

"No," he assured her. "I mean, we can if you want, but I think you know everything you need to know."

"I do?" she asked, relief coming through in her voice.

"Yeah."

"When did _you_ know?" she asked, with a smile.

"As soon as we were finished the second time," he said.

"Why couldn't you tell me then?"

He shrugged. "A lifetime of holding back. Several lifetimes."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Well, I only have one lifetime."

"I know," he said lightly. He turned his head and kissed her forehead. "Good job I can't stop myself talking once I get a bee in my bonnet, eh?"

"So if this is all over in a day or so, then what's next for us?" she wondered.

"Then… I dunno," he shrugged. "Think they'd let us book one of those pyramids for a few days?"

END

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts!**


End file.
